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We Need a Distraction

She's crowded up against almost six feet of solid dog demon in the underground blue-lights of a subway car; her face red as a tomato. Sesshomaru's face is pale boredom with a twist of 'wellwhattayaknow' to the corner of his mouth. He's looking at her like he'd only just run into her the day before and is vaguely amused to be running into her again. The truth, of course, is a bit of a longer tale, but the car is lurching to a stop and the doors are open. People spill out onto the terminal, and she's already smelling fresh air from the top of the terminal stairway before she blinks and looks around for that sliver of Before again.

He is at the third step above her, watching her watching for him and for a moment he thinks of walking on, upward and far away again. Of brushing this whole chance encounter under the rug for the next millenia until the inevitable itch squawks at the back of his mind: "what if." He takes two steps down and blows lightly at her ear. Something doggish he hasn't done since...a long time ago now.

Some things are then talked about, some things only hinted at. All things are done at a sedate pace down a commercial strip until something bright flashes in their faces and there's a jackass in their way begging for "some words" from THE man behind the newest development in fuck-all technological or political whatever it is Sesshomaru has been doing for the past few decades. Some faces are easy to spot even in a subway terminal and Jackass isn't the only one swarming.

Hard to push off journalists when they build numbers into the double digits, even for a demon. It's enough to make a man wistful for days when indescriminate killing was not only tolerated, but sometimes actively celebrated. A brand new sword would be great about now - it needn't even be a particularly magical one; just one well-made enough for a slightly deviant tameshigiri.

But the girl. They're all very interested in her, and of course they are. And when they start to ask, he closes off and starts to think that murder charges aren't actually that hard to shake for someone like him and he'd very likely get a break on a plea for manslaughter. Manslaughter sounds better at any rate, and he does miss a good slaughter.

But Kagome has other plans, it seems, because she's suddenly shrieking and pointing at just the sky in general. Sesshomaru also looks up to see the absolutely nothing she'd been pointing out, but not for as long as the unwanted tabloid gremlins gawking and squawking about half-imagined spectres he's part-certain Kagome managed to conjure up herself.

They slip away down an alleyway until it ends at a cinder block wall and Sesshomaru just picks her up and off they go, gleaming ball of light and everything, for some coffee and a proper chat.